Pomp and Circumstance

Yesterday I went to my twin nephews' high school graduation. I hadn't been to one of these since my youngest sister (their mother) graduated more than 25 years ago, but what struck me was how much these things never change.

Walking across the campus to the football field, seeing the kids in their gowns; the girls in white, the boys in blue, brought back a lot of memories. There are a lot of graduation ceremonies these days, as we live in a society that rightly or wrongly seeks to reward all students--eighth-grade graduations, kindergarten graduations, even pre-school graduations. But high school remains the most iconic, even more than college (I didn't go to my college graduation, instead opting for the more low-key departmental ceremony).

All the trappings are there. Parents and other family members and friends, waiting patiently in the heat (fortunately we got some shade, but it was still well over 90). The band and chorus come out, and play a few tunes, then the processional, with the kids sweating under those gowns (the girls at least could wear sandals) as Edward Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance is played. Elgar would be completely lost to history without this piece, and is there any high school in America that would buck tradition and play something else?

Then came the speeches. My nephews' class had three valedictorians, but due to their splitting the chore each kept it brief, and didn't say anything radical. One of them had a broken leg, and ended his speech by asking his classmates, in the theatrical tradition, to "break a leg." The principal and superintendent made speeches, but mindful of the heat, shortened them.

Then came the awarding of the diplomas. My family and I had trouble spotting our boys, as they almost all looked the same--lanky boys trying to look cool and diffident. They were separated for some reason (supposedly the kids were arranged by height, but the twins are only about a half-inch or less different in height). But when they came up my sister said, "There's Jordan!" and "There's Darren!" as if they had been purposely trying to hide.

At the end, the tassels are moved from right to left, and, against orders, the mortarboards are tossed in the air. But nobody's eye was put out, and this one last act of rebellion feels good.

Afterward there were pictures with parents and grandparents, but they were eager to see their friends. In this age of responsibility, no longer do kids go from party to party--the school arranges a mass party and they are taken there by bus.

I graduated in 1979, my dad in 1959, and we agreed that the graduation we saw yesterday was no different. It's one of the hoary traditions that seem like they will never change, and that people take great comfort in.

One my nephews is going to Michigan State, the other to Penn State, so we'll be a Big Ten family for a while (me and my dad are fans of Michigan, but neither of these boys will be playing football, so there shouldn't be a conflict). Best of luck to them.